


The Murder (Mystery Book) Club

by FPwoper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (They Both Think The Other Is a Writer), Assholes Deserve To Die, Book Club, Implied Murder, M/M, Mistaken Careers, Murder Husbands, Murder Mystery Book Club, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28190973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FPwoper/pseuds/FPwoper
Summary: Dean loves the weekly murder mystery book club hosted by Becky, with Charlie helping them figure out whether a murder could really be carried out. Dean is intrigued by the newest member, Cas, who also seems to be overly interested in the mysteries. They slowly grow closer together, but will Cas stay with Dean when he figures out Dean’s interest in the murder mystery book club is more than just ‘interest’?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	The Murder (Mystery Book) Club

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been in my drafts for a few weeks and I didn't think I'd actually finish it because I seem to accumulate WIPs as all writers do, but mine never leave their respective folders. So, the fact that this is here is a minor miracle.
> 
> Thank you so much to Rachel for proofreading this for me. All remaining mistakes are my own.  
> Thank you maybe even more to kitmistry who helped brainstorm yesterday and sparked my interest in this again.
> 
> Enjoy!

Dean first met the mysterious Castiel Novak while he was looking into a book club that discussed the latest murder mysteries. There was one in town, and they tended to discuss the deep grisly details of the murders in question, aided by a forensic analyst to see if the murders were, in fact, things that could be carried out in real life.

And yes, Dean was fascinated by that. He'd always been intrigued by murders and yes, he'd also contemplated writing a book about inventive murder methods. He was... more than fascinated. It was a professional thing, you see.

Which was how he'd met Castiel Novak. This book club.

The book club met once a week to discuss the newest grisly murder and never quite seemed to attract the same audience. It depended on the author and the level to which the murder was realistic, Dean had noticed. He just wanted to be there for every meeting - mostly because of the forensic analyst, if he were fully honest. Charlie was shaping up to become his favourite person in the world. The redhead seemed to have that effect on everyone, but explaining a very mundane murder apparently got on everyone's nerves or something, and if the murder was just a basic stabbed-in-the-back-by-a-loved-one, some people just didn't deign to show up for the meeting, as much fun as Charlie usually made those meetings. Dean showing up at every meeting also made Charlie look upon him in favour, or that's what it felt like. They struck up easy conversation, and talked about anything and everything after those meetings.

New members of the book club were usually first noticed by Charlie, who definitely had a mind for remembering people she'd seen before, and she welcomed the new member before Becky, their official chairwoman, even noticed there was someone new in the audience. Dean noticed next. The man who'd walked in had dark hair and wore a flasher coat, and it was the coat that drew Dean’s attention. He wasn’t quite sure whether that was a good thing, because it reminded him of one of the murders they’d discussed a few weeks earlier. Dean’s first thought was that the man maybe didn’t know what he’d walked into, but the man clearly knew, as he veered towards Becky as soon as Charlie had welcomed him, greeting her and finding a place for himself amongst the crowd. One of the few seats that still remained in the bookstore they were in for the night was right beside Dean, and he made sure to signal to the man that the seat was open.

The man sat down next to him and immediately introduced himself as Castiel Novak, “interested in all things crime and mystery.” Dean shook Castiel’s hand and gave his own name, but they couldn’t get any further before Becky hushed everyone and started the meeting.

The next few weeks, Castiel visited the book club, sitting next to Dean but only observing quietly, occasionally taking notes in a worn hardcover notebook. The back of his pen was almost chewed up, but it appeared to still function fully, and Dean tried not to look at Castiel’s lips while he chewed the pen. It was difficult, but he’d learned long ago that dating wasn’t really up his alley, so… he didn’t want to think about it too much.

In early December, Becky had found them another subpar murder (another stabbing made to look like a robbery that was actually a _crime_ _passionel_ ), and while Dean was there, he was pleasantly surprised that Castiel had shown up too. They’d had several weird murders, and Dean had noticed Cas throwing increasingly incredulous looks aimed at both him and Becky, so he was wondering whether Castiel was even going to come to the boring week, but apparently, he did think it was worth it.

This meeting was the turning point in his relationship with Castiel, insofar it was a relationship, which Dean was still doubting very much. So far, it seemed more like silent companionship than something that even remotely came close to a friendship. That evening, though, Dean found himself wanting to take notes. As boring as the murder in the book had been, Charlie made it exciting to listen to, and she further explained the various motives that often led to a _crime_ _passionel_ , which Dean thought was exciting. This was something he could still learn from, and Charlie’s buoyant voice would also make it much more interesting to listen to. However, he’d forgotten his own notebook, so he asked Castiel if he could borrow a sheet of paper to take some notes on.

Castiel gladly agreed and tore a page from his notebook, and Dean declined his offer for a pen. There was one in the pocket in his plaid overshirt, and he took that out. It was an old one, one stemming from a period he couldn’t quite get rid of his oral fixation, and Castiel laughed as he saw the chewed off cap that was on the pen. Dean mock-scowled at him, which only made Cas laugh harder.

“Mister Novak, what is so funny about divorces leading to crimes of passion?” Charlie asked, but it was clear that she was mostly asking in jest.

“Sorry, sorry, please continue talking about divorce,” Cas said, stifling his next bout of laughter. “I won’t interrupt you again.”

“Thank you.”

Castiel was clearly biting the inside of his cheek to avoid another burst of laughter, which almost made Dean laugh. It was a strange start, how both of them having pens with the ends almost chewed off could lead to them actually talking, but that was what happened.

******

Two months later, they were still both going to the weekly meetings, but they were also often meeting up outside of the book club. Dean had asked Castiel to join him for coffee in his favourite cafe when Cas had asked him about his favourite murders, just because that would probably take longer than a short meeting after a book club.

So they did. On a dreary Wednesday afternoon, they met up in the Grinder to talk about their favourite murders. As Dean introduced some of his favourite murder mysteries (he liked Agatha Christie novels), Castiel talked about his own best-loved murders. Castiel apparently had a preference for ‘modern’ murders. He loved the innovations modern mystery writers could implement, those who used new technologies to create modern and horrifying murders.

Their discussion took them two hours, debating whether cybercrime and implants could lead to better coordinated murders or not, whether a knife was still a good murder weapon if there were guns or tasers or pills or almost untraceable poisons that could be used instead. 

They were disturbed during their discussion of knives by the owner of the cafe, telling them that he wanted to go close up if that was okay with them? Dean looked at his watch, startled. He hadn’t realised that two hours had passed and that it was now dinner time already.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “We won’t take any more of your time, thank you so much for your hospitality.”

Castiel nodded and started to get up. “Indeed. You could have warned us earlier, and we wouldn’t have taken as much of your time as we did now.”

The cafe owner looked slightly disturbed, though, and Dean laughed softly. “Sorry if we unsettled you, too. We were discussing crime novels.” He took twenty dollars from his pocket and put it in the man’s hand. “Once again, thank you. We’ll leave you to close up now.”

After they’d left the cafe, Castiel huffed. “I hadn’t realised it was already coming up to six, or I wouldn’t have kept you so long.”

“Ah, don’t worry. I had the afternoon off anyway. Shall... shall we do this again next week, maybe?”

Castiel’s face lit up. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Dean couldn’t suppress a smile at Castiel’s enthusiastic reaction. “Great – same place, same time?”

“Yes,” Cas said. “I’ll be here. And I’ll see you on Saturday for the book club, right?”

“Of course. I think I’d have to be murdered in order to not show up there.” Dean winked and laughed. “Sorry. But no, I’ll text you if I won’t be there.”

Castiel gave him a thumbs up, then bundled himself up closer in his scarf and waved goodbye to Dean before taking off to his own house again.

******

The months continued on like that, with Cas and Dean meeting twice a week to discuss their favourite murders, authors, and novels, although their second meeting of the week had migrated to Dean’s house. The topics they discussed also turned more and more varied, and before they knew it, they were moving firmly into relationship territory. Their handshakes and hugs slowly turned to kisses and long nights spent texting, calling, e-mailing, facetiming, and then thinking about moving in together.

Almost a year later, Cas asked Dean whether he thought they were moving too fast, but Dean simply laughed and kissed Cas. He never moved too quickly, the pace was always right. But moving in felt like something they weren’t quite ready for yet.

However, most of the people in the book club knew by now that Dean and Cas were a couple, and they were included more and more in anything that happened in the club, since they were counted as veterans of a sort. The only times they didn’t go to murder mystery night was when something terrible happened, and they attended more often than even Becky did.

So, as honorary members of a sort, they noticed immediately when a new visitor started showing up. He was an older man, balding and fat, and Dean disliked him on sight. He oozed toxic masculinity and hurt ego, and Dean knew what was going to happen as soon as Charlie was explaining again about crimes of passion. Instead of listening, the man kept interjecting with theories he called scientific, and Charlie was rolling her eyes two seconds into the first interruption.

“I’m sorry, but are you qualified to talk about this?” Cas said, voice cold as steel. He didn’t speak up loudly, but it was loud enough to clearly interrupt the man.

“Well, aren’t we all more qualified than her?” the man asked, a disgusted look on his face. “I can’t imagine that she actually has qualifications in this field.”

“So what are yours?” Dean asked, and the man fell quiet before he cleared his throat.

“I have been reading about murders and the motivations behind murders for the past five years.”

“Ah, yeah, so you’re _clearly_ more qualified to talk about murders than Charlie, who has been working with the FBI for the past ten years.”  
The man fell quiet once more, but this time the silence was sullen, and Cas and Dean exchanged glances. They knew it probably wasn’t going to get any better from here on out, and unfortunately, they were correct in their assessment.

The evening progressed and the man kept interrupting every woman who spoke up, showing off his so-called knowledge about murders as if he knew everything there was to be known. Charlie migrated over to Cas and Dean after a particularly gruesome misquotation from an article that had been debunked about ten years ago about motivations. She’d seen them wince.

“Truly horrific,” Charlie said, voice just a tone above a whisper. “I think that no one would miss him were he to be murdered himself. I don’t think he’s said anything that actually contributed to the discussion tonight, and I’m also still considering whether anything he’s said actually holds true.”

“It’s not,” Cas said, louder than Charlie. He was past caring, annoyed beyond belief at the man. Dean knew the look on his face, and he knew that if the man overheard, it would probably turn into a massive confrontation. “Not a word he’s said has been true this entire night. I wonder how someone can lie this much and still think that they were the ones in the right.”

Charlie sighed. “Some men… yeah, they’re just like that. I’m glad you two aren’t like that, to be honest. Whenever you do say something, it’s factual and backed up with research, although sometimes it’s a little uncanny how much the both of you seem to know.”

Both Dean and Cas shrugged. “He’s a writer,” they both said at the same time, and then they laughed loudly, not caring about the man who was once again holding a monologue about… whatever it is he was talking about. It was clear that no one was really listening anymore.

“Ah yeah, the author-who-needs-to-murder-someone. Well… I think we’re going to end tonight’s session a little earlier, and we’ll see if he shows up again next week. We’ll text you to let you know whether we’re moving venues or something if he does want to come back.”

“Thanks Charles,” Dean said, hugging her close to him. “Take care, okay? He looks like he has it out for you now.”

“I’ll be careful. I know how to murder him, should the need arise.”

*****

Dean knew that Cas was also worried about Charlie and the asshole. The fact that Cas threw worried looks over his shoulder every so many minutes when they left the café spoke volumes of that concern. That night, Dean and Cas decided to spend some time together at Dean’s house, but both Dean and Cas were restless, and when Cas excused himself to go for a walk, Dean simply kissed his forehead and made sure he went out dressed well for the cold.

When Cas had been gone for half an hour, Dean also snuck out of the house. He’d had the plan for a while – the need to kill had been rising again, and as much as he loved Cas, it wasn’t enough to stop the feelings that sometimes surged inside him. Although Cas had definitely suppressed the feelings for a little while, having him around wasn’t always easy. Sometimes, Dean just needed to kill, and sneaking around his boyfriend (slash partner, because Dean was seriously considering Cas to be his partner at this point) definitely didn’t make it any easier.

He hadn’t quite made up his mind about killing whatever-asshole’s-name was, but as the night progressed and the ladies present at the murder mystery book club grew increasingly uncomfortable with him, some ideas had come to Dean unbidden, and that was also when he knew that it was time for him to sate his urges again.

God, he wished sometimes that he could just tell Cas about his real job. Being a writer was of course a perfect cover, but he wanted Cas to know about how it really all happened, even if it was just as a way to prove to his writer boyfriend what worked and what didn’t. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t just introduce someone else into his other world, show the other side of himself.

Dean was glad that Becky kept such an extensive document with member information, because Dean had easily found the creep’s address. He hadn’t meant to… but he probably had. By the time he’d broken into the file (which only took him a few seconds), his resolve had set, and he was ready to kill again. He wasn’t sure if tonight was going to be the night, but he made sure he was prepared. He brought some knives, a gun, a pair of new gloves, and some rope just to feel prepared.

The asshole’s house wasn’t too far away, but when Dean finally got there, there were no lights on and no car in the driveway. He made sure to check that no one was home at all, but he was almost sure of that. No luck finding the asshole tonight, then. He might just have to follow him home next week after the meeting, then.

*****

Cas wasn’t feeling great next Saturday, so he stayed home instead of joining Dean at the book club. Charlie hadn’t been able to find a different location for the book club, so chances were that the asshole was going to be there again, and Dean was going to make damn sure he could follow the asshole to wherever he went after that meeting. He’d been finding more and more information (and Charlie had helped him with compiling a damning report on the man in question) that led to Dean feeling surer and surer that the asshole was a perfect person to be murdered slowly and painfully. He didn’t have an official police record, but there were several reports from him on 4chan describing what he’d done to women and some lgbt-people, and Dean had to contain himself while he was reading them. He needed to be steady and calm while murdering this dude before he made too much of a mess and got himself caught. He had a streak going and didn’t want to move just because he got caught because he was too angry to keep himself in check.

The murder mystery book club meeting was a drag, as expected. The asshole had shown up again and was once again taking over every conversation. Dean could see everyone rolling their eyes and sighing, and generally being done with this man. He resolved that this would be the last time the man would have anything to say at all. He texted Cas that he might be home later tonight because he didn’t want to disturb Cas too much, and added that he’d probably take Charlie out for drinks or something. It was a lie, and Dean didn’t like lying to Cas, but it was necessary.

The meeting was nearing its end – much earlier than usual due to the asshole man – and Dean had to make sure that he could execute his plan tonight. The wheels had been set into motion via 4chan, a platform Dean much hated but loved at the same time because it was one of the easiest ways to find new murder victims. Some people deserved to die more than others, and a lot of users on that platform fit the bill so well… Dean almost lost his train of thought.

Dean looked up just in time to see the asshole leaving, and so Dean also took his leave, waving at Charlie and Becky, promising to let them know how Cas was doing when he was home again. He’d already scheduled a message to go out in half an hour or so saying that Cas was better but still sleeping a lot. Scheduling messages made some things a lot easier, and Dean looked at his watch at the reminder of scheduled messages. He had about 20 minutes left to get to the meeting point he’d directed the asshole to.

Dean’s plan was easy – he’d meet the man at the abandoned warehouse near the edge of town, one where he knew the cameras really weren’t working anymore, where he knew people wouldn’t check quickly for bodies either. He’d lured the man in by sending him a message saying that he had a great idea to help him abuse more women in town, but that he wasn’t willing to discuss it over the forum because of privacy issues, and asked whether he wanted to meet up in town. The asshole fell for it hook, line, and sinker, and immediately agreed to the meeting, not even blinking an eye at the fact that it was at the bad end of town.

Dean didn’t drive the Impala over, instead he used the bike he almost never used. His car would be recognised in town, the bike wouldn’t. So if anyone looked out, it was one less thing to worry about. Dean definitely didn’t want to leave his precious Impala behind anywhere.

Dean checked his watch again and knew that he needed to leave now if he wanted to arrive just after the asshole had. He biked fast and took some shortcuts. It only took him five minutes to get to the warehouse, and he saw that the asshole wasn’t there yet, so Dean hid behind some of the barrels next to the warehouse so he could see his victim arrive and then hopefully quickly overpower the man before he could fight.

As soon as he saw the balding man pull his car up into a parking space close to the warehouse, Dean ducked down further, checking and double checking that the taser was ready to go. He’d decided that this man would be going down slowly and painfully, humiliated and used like he did with most of the women he abused himself. He’d get to feel what that was like.

He saw the man step out of the car, look at his surroundings, then slowly and carefully move into the warehouse. Dean watched him go in and then softly snuck in behind him, firing the taser as soon as he had a clear shot. It was a clean shot and the man shook as electricity charged through him. As he fell to the floor, Dean moved closer slowly and steadily, checking if the man really was out or just down on the floor now. He appeared to be out like a light, and Dean moved quicker now, pulling the man up and to a chair, where he tied him up quickly and effectively, making sure the ropes were also covered in duct tape so the man had no chances of escaping whatsoever. Dean deliberately didn’t tape up the man’s mouth. He enjoyed hearing what people were feeling as he tortured them.

Instead of starting straight away, Dean sat down in front of the man, in front of the chair with his victim, and just looked. He had already made a plan, but he _studied_ the man in front of him, making sure that he could really carry out his plan, mentally marking the places where he wanted to hurt the asshole in front of him.

By the time the man was coming to again, Dean was getting bored. He’d set out all of his tools – knives were most suitable for this man – and he’d suited up to make sure he wouldn’t be leaving too much DNA behind. Not like anyone would actually miss this man, of course, but Dean didn’t want to risk too much exposure.

The man’s eyes fluttered open and Dean waved at him cheekily. “Hi dude,” he said cheerily. “Hope you’re ready for this.”

“What?” the man said. _Eloquent_ , Dean thought, as he watched the man start to panic as he realised what situation he was in. He started pulling at his arms and legs, but wasn’t yet screaming for help or anything. Dean thought he’d said enough himself, so he simply picked up the first knife and cut off the man’s clothing, drawing it away from his body with the knife. It was the middle of December and it was cold as fuck, so he saw the man’s skin pebble all over, dick and balls drawing closer to his body. Dean shivered at the sight of it, not wanting to think too much about what this man had done. He moved his attentions higher, towards the man’s chest, drawing the knife over the man’s skin, leaving red lines but not yet cutting into him. As the knife reached the man’s left nipple, Dean pushed a little harder, making a first cut straight across it.

This first cut made the man scream alright, and Dean smiled in victory. The man’s scream turned into sobs as Dean twisted the point of the knife slowly in the existing wound, then moved on to his right nipple, eliciting another scream. Dean debated pushing the knife in further, leaving it there as a souvenir, but Dean _liked_ this knife.

“Help,” the man sobbed, and Dean looked up sharply. The man’s focus was on something behind him, and Dean turned quickly, knife in hand and ready to throw. He saw the silhouette of a man standing in the entrance to the warehouse and he squinted at it. Then recognition set in.

“Cas?”

“Dean? What are you…” Cas trailed off as he saw the situation in front of him. “What are you doing?”

“Well, I can ask you the same thing,” Dean said, frowning. “I almost threw a knife at you. Why are you out of bed?”

Castiel was quiet for a bit before he walked over to Dean, stopping just in front of him. He tilted his head and looked at the knives to Dean’s left, then to Dean, then to the asshole tied to the chair. “Are you…”

“Fucking hell, Cas,” Dean exploded. “Why are you here? How the fuck did you _get_ here?”

“I followed the man you’ve currently got tied up here, but didn’t know what to expect, so I waited for half an hour or so before barging in, especially because I heard some screams here.” Cas chuckled. “I think we might both have misunderstood the other’s night career.”

“You… aren’t a writer?”

“God, no. I’m guessing you aren’t either,” Cas said. They were ignoring the trussed-up man in front of them, instead focused on the other.

“Nope,” Dean said, popping the p. “I’m a certified serial killer. Officially called that and all that jazz.”

“Well… I think we also had similar ideas, then,” Cas said, laughing and pressing a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “Hi, I’m also a serial killer, just recently moved over here because my other town… was getting a little suspicious that so many people were dying, and I didn’t feel like waiting around for the murder enquiries.” Cas pointed towards the man in the chair. “He was going to be my first kill here.”

“Well, I almost beat you to it, then,” Dean said. “It’d been a while since I last took someone out, but he was annoying enough that I got the urge again.” 

“Together, then? We can discuss how and what that entails for our relationship later, but first…” Cas turned his attention to the asshole they’d both picked as a victim. “… let’s go take care of this piece of vermin.”

*****

Two hours later, Dean and Cas fell into bed in Dean’s house, bloodied and tired but also high on endorphins and adrenaline.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean moaned between kisses, trailing his hands over Cas’s bloodied clothes. “You are so hot with a knife in your hands… might even want you to cut me at some point.”

“Don’t… don’t do that right now,” Cas said, groaning and pulling away. “We should shower and then fuck, and then we should talk about whatever the fuck we’re going to do about all this.”

“Good idea,” Dean said, pulling Cas up from the bed again, kissing him before leading him blindly into the bathroom. “Whatever we do, though… move in with me? Please?”

Cas broke away from Dean’s kiss, beaming at him. “Yes.” Cas turned on the shower and undressed Dean. “Now – clean, then bed, then talking. You shut up for now, okay?”

“Yes, sir.” Dean kissed Cas again, stepped under the shower, and relaxed. Everything would be okay – and this was the very best scenario, after all. Cas knew what he was, _who_ he was, and he didn’t care. Cas being a killer too was the cherry on top of the cake, and they’d figure out together what that meant. But for now, it meant happiness beyond what Dean had felt before.


End file.
